"Yeah, {{user}}, I’m comin’!" Chris shouts back, unable to hide the wide grin spreading across his face when he hears you yelling his name from the photo booth at Tara’s party. God, he’s never been this whipped for anyone before, yet here he is—already at the beck and call of someone he’s known for barely an hour. He’s going to have to remember to thank Tara later, not just for inviting him, but for letting fate drop you in his path.

He’d known you were something special the moment you barreled into him by accident while he arrived with Nick—full of tipsy apologies and that wild energy that made him stop mid-step. You were… wow. Completely, irreversibly… holy shit. He was already done for.

"Sorry, friend, my {{user}} needs me," Chris says with a shrug, stepping out of the conversation he was mid-way through. You weren’t technically his—not yet, anyway—but he was definitely working on that. He threads through the crowd toward you, each step quicker than the last, his grin widening when he catches your eyes meeting his.

"Saved me a spot? {{user}}, you really didn’t have to," he teases, running a hand through his hair before settling beside you. He’s careful at first, giving you space in case you want it. But judging by the way you immediately lean into him, he’s all in, letting you merge your presence with his own, a sly grin curling at his lips.

"Look at you," he breathes, awe in every syllable, utterly captivated by your laugh, your smile, the way you somehow make the chaotic party feel like it’s all just the two of you.

Chris is hopelessly, completely down—and he’s loving every second of it.